The Cherry Blossom Is Falling
The cherry blossom is blowing in through open windows, sticking to windscreens, bonnets and wipers, entering homes on the soles of shoes, sprinkling itself over every pavement and path, leaving its legacy everywhere.
It seems no time since the cherry trees in my neighbourhood exploded into full bloom, a glorious spell of April sunshine accentuating their magnificent colour but now after a bout of heavy rain, the blossoms have been abruptly cast off, set free. It is May Day and they are already falling to the ground, creating a sea of pinkness, just as beautiful as when they first blossomed, but a clear sign that their brief season is ending.
Cherry blossoms epitomise the flowering of spring, the renewal of life after a dark, deep winter. But they also symbolise the fleeting nature of that life. Less than two weeks after their beauty peaks, the trees start to fade. They remind us that nothing lasts for ever, that we need to grasp beauty and joy whenever and wherever we can, before it’s too late and it’s gone.
I have been feeling a keen sense of loss recently, an awareness that greater loss may be ahead. When heavy thoughts threaten to infiltrate too far, I seek comfort in the pages of a book. I picked up one recently, the first1 in a gentle, cosy crime series about a middle-aged detective in Quebec. Inspector Armand Gamache thrives on introspection, he observes the world around him, his morals guide him. He has a tendency to philosophise, he tries to exercise grace and forgiveness. He believes that the only way to keep your heart tender is to refuse to let the shocking truth of life make you cynical.
There’s been a murder in Three Pines, a village in the Eastern Townships, an elderly artist shot dead via a bow and arrow. She has been discovered lying amongst the leaves, deep in the maple woods. As Gamache investigates her death, and the impact on the community, he discusses the theory that ‘life is loss’ with Myrna, a retired psychologist. How we cope with accepting this determines who we are and who we can become. There will be loss of parents, loss of love, loss of jobs, loss of security, loss of relationships, loss of status and ultimately, loss of control. When people reach crisis point, the catalyst is usually some sort of loss that has ignited unwanted or uncomfortable changes. When constantly bounded and surrounded by loss, Myrna says, “we have to find a higher meaning in our lives. Otherwise, we’ll lose ourselves”. That is the most dangerous loss.
I did not expect to uncover answers to life’s big existential questions in a light, mystery novel with a whiff of Midsomer Murders but as I see those cherry trees shedding and scattering their carpet of flowers, I think Gamache is right. We have no choice really. Happiness is based on accepting that nothing is permanent, on not fighting the inevitability of loss, on realising that we are meant to evolve and change as a result of it, that without this, we are merely standing still. Happiness is enjoying the pink blossoms while they last and knowing when it’s time for them to go.
This morning, beside the falling cherry blossom, I noticed the wisteria starting to bloom. New growth is already on its way.
Still Life by Louise Penny and the Inspector Gamache books are now also a series called Three Pines on Amazon Prime.